defendable
by lovelyrutabagas
Summary: Damian al Ghul just wanted to swim in his hotel's pool and maybe spend some time with his father, not go on a cross-country road trip to solve some guy's murder with a loser named Jonathan Kent.


Damian sighed. Loudly.

From across the room, his father, billionaire Bruce Wayne, closed his eyes briefly. Inhaled deeply, shoulders hunched over his laptop. He sighed, too; though, it was more tired than irritated, and he stretched his arms above his head, ignoring Damian's glower.

He sneered at the back of his father's head, and sighed again, louder this time. His hand twitched when the only response his sigh garnered was a tired glance back at him.

"Father."

Bruce looked up to the ceiling of their shared room, as if asking for patience, and then turned smoldering brown eyes on his son.

"Yes, Damian?"

He pouted, and blinked quickly; looking as innocent as possible, and attempting to gain as much leverage as he could. "Can we go out soon? You promised Dick that we would do something fun together, and staying in a room the whole week here isn't anyone's idea of fun."

His father looked conflicted, guilt making the tips of his ears burn red. It was an endearing thing to see from the normally composed man, and Damian had more than a little pride in getting his father to become so embarrassed.

Instead of shutting his laptop, and claiming that they needed a break from the stuffy room, his father remained seated and hunched. His eyes drooped, and Damian knew he was about to shut Damian out for the rest of the day.

"Can I at least go to the pool?"

His father suddenly straightened, his eyes boring holes into the side of his head. He looked too serious in that moment, and Damian automatically sat up, his face falling into a neutral mask.

"You go to the pool, you stay within the gates. If anyone approaches you, don't talk to them." He shut the laptop, and Damian watched in anticipation: his father was going to say yes, even if Damian had to follow some rules.

"Of course, father." Damian said obediently, rising to his feet. He ran to his bag, and pulled out his swim suit, a black top and bottom combo that his mother said made him "look dashing."

He stepped into the bathroom, changed quickly, and stepped out to his father's scrutiny. Lips curled into a smirk, and Damian took off for the door, the towel his father had chucked at his head as he stepped out of the bathroom scrunched up in his arms.

"Wear sunscreen!" He bellowed.

Damian just snorted; he didn't need sunscreen.

…

"I made a mistake."

Damian's words didn't just cover his sunburn; they also covered his decision to come out to the pool in the first place.

He stared over the granite edge of the pool, looking past the assorted potted plants in his way. There was a skinny white boy poking at a man who had been at the pool since before Damian had arrived over two hours ago.

Rolling his eyes, Damian turned away from the pair. The boy was a stranger to him, and most likely to the man as well, and he was bound to regret touching someone he didn't even know. He sighed, and let his head rest against the edge he had looked over, feeling sleepy.

Damian's eyes grew heavy, and he rubbed them with wet hands, trying to stay awake. Father would kill him if he slept in the sun of all—

"Oh my God!"

—things. What the hell?

Damian's sleepiness evaporated instantly, and he shot out of the water and onto the boiling concrete. He slid, arms pin wheeling as he attempted to steady himself.

The one who had screamed first, screamed again, and Damian saw that it was the same boy from before. He was stark white, aside from his sunburned cheeks and nose, and he met Damian's confused gaze with his own horrified one.

They stared at each other, large green eyes meeting narrow blue, and the boy gestured frantically for him to approach.

He did so, breath coming out quick and uneven; he was nervous. When he reached the boy's side, Damian dimly thought that he had been right to be nervous.

The man who had been in the hot tub all afternoon hardly looked human, with his melted face, and crushed skull that revealed something dry and shriveled-looking within it. Damian didn't want to think about what it was, even though distantly, he knew.

The boy was crying, blue eyes rimmed red, and snot dripped from his nose. Damian wondered why he was crying; did he know the man? Damian had thought he hadn't, but maybe he did.

With a heaving sob, the boy wiped his nose and breathed raggedly through his mouth. The heavy breathing was unpleasant.

He turned to Damian at the same time Damian walked over to the emergency phone. He dialed for security, explained the situation, and then called his room. When there was no answer on the other end, Damian knew his father must have left for one of his meetings.

"What're you doin'?" Sniffled the boy. Damian barely spared him a glance before handing over the phone.

"Call your room, if you want; security is on the," his gaze landed on the back of the man's head, vivid green against the tan-colored concrete. "The way." His voice wobbled near the end, though the boy didn't seem to notice, talking rapidly over the phone to what sounded like a man.

Damian stared up at the sky, and listened to the one-sided conversation beside him.

"Yeah, 'course I— No! Why'd'ya always think, ugh, no, I didn't." He spared a nervous glance over his shoulder and shuddered. "How long until you get here?" He nodded, smiling slightly. "Ok, daddy, see you soon. Love you, too; bye."

He hung up, cheeks flushing red as he caught Damian's eye.

He held out his hand and said, "I'm Jon, Jon Kent."

Damian shook Jon's hand, noted how sweaty it was, and responded.

"Damian."

No need to let Jon know his father was Bruce Wayne. He would probably just start crying, the crybaby.

…

an- special thanks to hyp-oh-critical ,,, thanks nova :)

anyways, this is a multi chapter story abt damian and jon, but platonic only. they're like 10 in this, ok so no romance


End file.
